Contagion
by Leesa Perrie
Summary: Season Three McKay, a cold and, well, he's not a happy bunny...


**Contagion**

**By Leesa Perrie**

_(Early Season Three – I think you can guess which episode it is set just prior to…)_

**Day One – Morning**

He felt that tell tale scratchiness at the back of his throat. Great, just…great. He was developing a cold. Really, this was so not fair. He had too much work to do, he really didn't need this as well. And there was little point in going to see Carson. He'd just prescribe lots of fluids, rest and maybe some Tylenol. So much for the medical profession, couldn't even cure the common cold.

He grabbed some Tylenol and headed for the mess hall. Food, drink, some tablets, and then get down to the labs. Maybe it would just go away. Yeah, right.

**Day One – Afternoon**

He kept sneezing. Just lots of little annoying ones every so often. And his throat was beginning to feel raw. Miko, bless her, brought him some throat lozenges. Radek, damn him, brought Carson, after a particularly violent set of sneezes. Said he was worried Rodney was going to sneeze his brain out.

Carson, the quack, offered him some SenQuil, and suggested he got some rest. He took the SenQuil, to shut everyone up, and then went back to work. Funny how most of his staff found reasons to be elsewhere. What, they were afraid of a few germs? Cowards.

It had nothing to do with his steadily decreasing patience, or his constant bitching about how awful he felt. Of course not.

**Day One – Evening**

And to think he felt bad this afternoon! Oh, this was just so, so unfair. His throat was raw, his voice little more than a whisper, and damn Sheppard for enjoying that little fact so much, and his sinuses were clogging up. Add to that the start of a cough, and a few aches and pains, and you got one extremely irritable and downright miserable astrophysicist.

The worst thing, though, was the fact that he couldn't seem to think clearly. It felt like his brain was clogging up as well. Maybe he should just give up, go to bed, and hope he felt better tomorrow. Not that he held out much hope that he would, or that he would be able to get much sleep tonight.

Maybe Carson had some NyQuil…

**Day Two – Morning**

Rotten NyQuil stuff. Sure, it had made him drowsy, as if he hadn't been feeling drowsy enough, but did it help him sleep? No. Damn cold, damn useless medicine. And if they thought he was going to work today, they could think again. No way. He was going to shuffle, and no doubt it would be a shuffle the way he was feeling, down to the mess hall, grab some food, even though he wasn't feeling too hungry - and wasn't that worrying in itself? – and shuffle back to his room, and bed.

Oh, and call Carson. Maybe the quack had some other slightly less useless medicine he could take. Right now, he'd take anything to feel better. Damn, just to be able to breathe through his nose and not his mouth would be wonderful. Especially as that was making his throat and cough worse.

**Day Two – Still Morning.**

Sympathy, all he asked for was a little sympathy. Ha, he should have known better. That rat, Sheppard, called him 'flem central', and beat a hasty retreat. Teyla had looked concerned, and suggested he see Carson again, as if that would make any difference. Ronon…had threatened him with violence if he so much as breathed in the big guy's direction. Wonderful. Everyone else was giving him a wide berth. He was glad to get back to his quarters to lie down, and ignore that little bit of pain at being avoided. It was just a few germs, after all. It wasn't like he was suffering from a plague or anything.

So much for friendship.

**Day Two – Afternoon**

He felt hot, cold, hot, cold…Not good. Carson had sounded annoyed when he'd called him. Well, sorry for being ill! Still, he said he would come down and check on him in a few minutes. Not that Carson would be able to do much, but damn it, he'd not felt this bad for years. He was beginning to wonder if it was just a cold. Maybe it was flu. Or maybe it was some mutant Pegasus Galaxy disease and he was going to die in his room. Alone.

Damn it, friends didn't leave friends to suffer alone. At least, he'd thought they didn't. Obviously, he'd got that wrong.

**Day Two –Evening**

So, now he was in the infirmary. Seemed he had the mega cold from hell, and Carson had decided he wanted him where he could keep an eye on him.

He felt like a wet rag, wrung out, and miserable. If a wet rag could feel miserable. Or could feel anything, for that matter. Crap, his brain felt clogged and slow. At least he could breathe through his nose now. Carson had put him on oxygen, apparently his levels had been a little low. Not dangerously so, but still…

His throat still felt like it had been cut, and the cough was threatening to bring his lungs up. Oh, and he had a fever. Wonderful. And although he could breathe through his nose, and the sneezing seemed to have stopped, his sinuses still felt heavy and painful.

And he couldn't talk. Which was doubly annoying, as his team seemed to have remembered him all of a sudden, and he couldn't make any snappy comebacks to their teasing.

He sighed. He felt worse than like crap.

But at least he wasn't alone.

**Day Five – Morning**

At last, the nightmare was over. Well, okay, he still had a slight cough, but the rest of his symptoms were gone. He'd been released from the infirmary yesterday, but told to rest. Something his team had enforced, mainly by taking it in turns to stay and annoy him, stopping him from getting any work done.

Today, he was back in the labs. Back to normality.

But first, breakfast. And… uh oh… Sheppard was throwing him a death glare. What? He hadn't done anything to warrant that, not that he could think of. Why was the Colonel so obviously pissed at him…

And then Sheppard sneezed…

Oh.

The End


End file.
